


In the Shadow of Christmas

by LamentingQuill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamentingQuill/pseuds/LamentingQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best gifts don’t always come on Christmas. For sometimes, and with a little help from loving friends, they come in its shadow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shadow of Christmas

** In the Shadow of Christmas **

by

_Lamenting Quill_

 

* * *

 

 

The snow was falling with quiet exuberance, determined to cover Hogwarts thoroughly with winter’s ivory blanket. The Forbidden Forest looked more like an enchanted wonderland than dangerous woodland, its tall trees appearing as though covered in powdered sugar. The lake had iced over, encasing the Giant Squid within its depths; but every now and then a strong tentacle would pierce through the thin sheet before disappearing once more – the only sign that it had actually succeeded in surfacing being the tell-tale hole left in its wake.

High above the forest and the lake, however, stood a woman. Her gloved hands rested upon the frosted stone ledge atop the Astronomy Tower as she leaned forward ever-so slightly. Dark green robes dusted with snowflakes swirled around her in the frigid wind, and if you looked closely enough you could just see her shivering.  Her cheeks were rosy with cold and her eyes were gazing far away to the horizon, watching as the sun slowly emerged from its sweet cocoon below the hills.

Albus Dumbledore, however, could pay no mind to Apollo’s doings; too intent was his concentration for the woman on the tower. He observed her from the edge of the Forbidden Forest, from which he had just exited moments ago having been to chat with the centaurs. She hadn’t noticed him, her eyes unwavering from the horizon. Not for the first time in the past few months he wondered what was on her mind. She had seemed slightly troubled lately, frequently becoming lost within her own thoughts. This was not something that could usually be attributed to one Minerva McGonagall.

He shivered slightly, the arctic temperature seeping into his bones. He drew his cloak tighter around himself and realised that Minerva wasn’t wearing a cloak at all. No doubt her tartan robes were warm, but he couldn’t imagine them being warm enough to negate the use of outerwear. What had prompted her to forgo the proper protection against the elements, and stand alone atop the tower to watch a solemn sunrise? He longed to ask her, but she had been so distant with him lately. He was quite torn; on one hand he wanted to ask her what was wrong and help her in any way that he could, but on the other he knew that it was none of his business. If she wanted him to know then she would tell him.

Albus released a deep breath, the mist momentarily hazing his view of his young deputy headmistress. The school governors had questioned his decision to make Minerva his deputy since she had only been teaching at the school for two years when he had appointed her. But Albus knew that no one could do the job better, and Hogwarts could never be placed into more capable, caring hands. Now, three years later, the governors had finally admitted that despite her youth and shortness of her tenure, Minerva had indeed been a good choice for the demanding position.

But not only had Minerva filled a void in the staff, but also in he himself. They had known each other for years of course, but it was only when she had come to teach that their friendship truly developed. The past five years that she had been back at Hogwarts were some of the best in Albus’s long life. She was the first person in many decades who he felt he could simply be himself with, disclose his various thoughts and feelings on certain matters to and not be judged for them. She was a cherished blessing for which he was most thankful, and it pained him to see her looking so lost and forlorn. He would refrain from pestering her with questions about the cause of her recent weariness, but perhaps attempting to give her a bit of holiday cheer wouldn’t be amiss. After all, the majority of the students had left the castle several days ago for the holiday, and that was always a cause for celebration.

His mind made, Albus reluctantly pulled his gaze from the tower and turned, making his way slowly across the snow-covered grounds and heading back to the castle. Once inside he set off for the Astronomy Tower, developing a plan as he went along. He would have the remainder of Christmas break to either cheer Minerva, or discover what was bothering her and attempt to fix it were it within his power. He desperately hoped that he would succeed in one or the other. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest well until he was certain she was okay and that he had done everything for her he could.

Reaching the top of the tower stairs, Albus paused at the door to Summon a heavy cloak from his rooms before stepping through and back into the cold. Minerva was still standing in the same spot, though the sun had now risen to hover lowly above the hills. She turned when she heard the door close and he offered her a smile which he was pleased to see returned, however weak it may have been.

“Good morning, Minerva. I hope you don’t mind my company, but I couldn’t help noticing upon my exit from the forest that you were wearing no cloak,” he said, draping the heavy item over her shoulders. “It would be a shame for you to catch a cold on holiday.”

She wrapped the garment tighter around herself and turned back to the ledge, eyes falling to her hands. “Thank you, Albus. It’s very kind and thoughtful of you,” she said, her tone softer than that which he was accustomed to hearing.

Something in her voice at that moment touched him, called to him. It was like a subtle plea for help, both quiet and seemingly devoid of expectancy for being answered. He had always felt affection for her and it had significantly increased over the past few years. However, he was suddenly filled with something much deeper and completely unbidden, and it took him by surprise. Before he could stop himself he reached out to her, placing his fingers beneath her chin and lifting her face to meet his gaze.

For the first time he saw the partially hidden pain that dwelled within her eyes, and he only wanted to erase it and revive the sparkle. The words were out of his mouth before he could remember his decision to say nothing, and he asked softly, “What is it that has stolen your hope, dear Minerva?”

Her eyes filled with tears and her voice trembled as she replied, “The truth, Albus. The truth. Please excuse me.” And before Albus could say a word she had removed his cloak from her shoulders and pushed it gently into his hands, turning and disappearing quickly behind the heavy tower door.

Left alone in winter’s silence, Albus turned his gaze to the progressing sun. In a rare moment of indulgence he lifted the cloak Minerva had briefly worn to his nose, inhaling deeply the delicate trace of her sweet perfume. He had never thought of her as more than a cherished friend, yet somehow beneath the eye of this cold winter morning she had managed to capture his heart, just as the dawning light had captured the lingering darkness.

He held no foolish hope that a woman of Minerva’s youth, beauty and calibre would ever return his blossoming feelings. He was an aging wizard turned eighty in August, and she was a young witch merely in her thirties. He had even been her teacher and Head of House in her last five years of school, and after she had graduated he had helped her gain an apprenticeship with a renowned Transfiguration Master. Although that had been more than a decade ago, he couldn’t imagine her ever seeing him as anything but her one time teacher and mentor, now turned friend, colleague and employer.

He wondered how one small moment atop a tower could awaken such strong feelings within him, when he had been in her company for so many hours since she became his deputy and had never felt anything more than friendly affection. It was both unsettling and puzzling. Perhaps if he hadn’t decided to go to her upon his exit from the forest the feelings would have remained dormant. He tried to wish that he had gone straight to his office instead, but even though he knew that it would have been the best decision, he couldn’t bring himself to form the wish. No matter how complicated it may make his interactions with Minerva now as he tried to keep his new emotions hidden, he couldn’t help but relish in the sensation of them.

It had been more years than he cared to think about – in a period of his life he was loath to recall – since anyone had kindled such a stirring in his soul. Although he knew the seed Minerva had just unknowingly planted in his heart could never come to fruition, he felt a certain relieved joy to know the soil was indeed still good for sowing and not the wasteland he had long thought it to have become.

Albus released a long sigh. It wasn’t even time for breakfast yet and he felt as though an entire year had passed since he awoke. Despite this sudden twist in events, he wouldn’t let his newfound ardour interfere with his original plan. Minerva was even more troubled than he had thought, and he would do anything for her that he could. He would merely have to be careful not to change the way he interacted with her, lest his budding feelings become known. With any luck she would never discover them, and so he would be spared the embarrassment – and she the discomfort – that such an unwelcome discovery would bring.

A sudden gust of gelid wind brought Albus from his thoughts and he folded his spare cloak over his arm and gave one last, lingering look to the horizon. He closed his eyes, committing every detail of the early morning to memory, for he would now possess a most bittersweet fondness for a solemn winter sunrise.

When he re-entered the castle his first thought was of finding Minerva. She mightn’t tell him the cause of her grief, put perhaps he could offer her some friendly comfort. But he tossed the notion aside immediately; if she had wanted his comfort she wouldn’t have left his presence on the tower. Besides, he felt that it would be best to have a little time to adjust to his sudden feelings for her before seeing her again, lest he do or say something regrettably foolish. He would forgo breakfast in the Hall this morning in favour of tending to unanswered post in his office and trying to sort through his thoughts. Perhaps he would see her at lunch.

But Minerva made no appearance at lunch, nor dinner, and when he asked Poppy if the professor had been at breakfast the young Medi-Witch had answered in the negative. Concerned, yet reluctant to intrude on her, Albus returned to his office to summon Hogwarts’ head house-elf.

“Master Dumbledore calls Gerick, Sir?” the aging elf asked, bowing before looking up at him, large onyx eyes expectant.

“Yes, Gerick, I was wondering if you might tell me whether or not Professor McGonagall has eaten today.”

The elf shook his head. “Not that I knows of, Master Dumbledore. Mistress McGonagall hasn’t been in the kitchens, and as far as I knows, Sir, the Mistress has sent for nothing but chamomile tea.”

His concern growing, Albus nodded to the frail creature. “I see. Please wait while I write a note, Gerick, and then I want you to deliver it to Professor McGonagall along with a tray of soup and toasted bread.”

“Gerick will do as Sir asks gladly, Master Dumbledore,” the elf said, moving to stand beside the desk to wait for the note.

Albus pulled a piece of parchment toward him and loaded his quill, pausing to consider his words carefully. Deciding to keep it brief and simple, he began to write:

_Minerva,_

_I beg your forgiveness for my having taken the liberty, but I was recently informed that you haven’t eaten, so I called for Gerick to prepare you a tray. I do hope you haven’t caught cold as I jested earlier, and I pray you pardon an old man his concern. Perhaps I shall see you tomorrow, and until then I wish you a good night’s rest filled with only the sweetest of dreams._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus_

Satisfied, he folded the letter and handed it to the patiently waiting elf, saying, “Thank you, Gerick; I am most appreciative.”

“It is Gerick’s pleasure to serve Master Dumbledore, Sir,” the elf replied, bowing lowly once more before disappearing and once again leaving Albus alone with his thoughts.

He had realised over the course of the day as he recalled the many years he had known Minerva that, contrary to his belief that his romantic feelings toward her were sudden, they had in actuality been brewing for quite some time. Perhaps, in all probability, since that clear August day she had come to see him in Hogsmeade after her apprenticeship had ended. He could remember the meeting as though it had occurred merely yesterday.

He had received a letter from Minerva a few days prior, asking him if he would care to meet her for a drink in Hogsmeade the coming Saturday. He had replied with his affirmative, looking forward to seeing her again after the intervening years between her departure from Hogwarts and the completion of her Transfiguration Mastery. She had been one of his favourite students, and they had kept up with one another’s doings over the four-year period through occasional correspondence, but it most definitely wasn’t the same as speaking with the bright young witch in person.

When he had left Hogwarts that Saturday for The Three Broomsticks, the air had been crisp and carrying the subtle autumn scent of dying leaves. The sun had just begun its descent in the clear sky when he entered the busy establishment, trying to look for Minerva whilst trying to be cordial to the various patrons who greeted him. And then, he had heard her voice behind him, her slight Scottish lilt recognisable despite how long it had been since he had heard it, saying, ‘Looking for me, Professor Dumbledore?’

He had turned, somehow expecting to see her standing there unchanged; appearing still to be the slightly awkward eighteen-year-old he had known. What he had found, however, was a striking young woman who only faintly resembled his memory of her. She still possessed her raven hair, although instead of it hanging loose around her shoulders in school-girl ringlets, she now had it pulled up into a sophisticated bun. Her green eyes still sparkled, but no longer from childhood enthusiasm; they now shone with a subtle maturity and confidence, though the warmth he found within them remained the same. She had been smiling at him brightly, her cheeks rosy with what he had flattered himself to think of as delight. She also seemed to have become slightly taller, or perhaps she was wearing a higher-heeled shoe than in her Hogwarts days, but her nose now came to approximately the centre of his shoulder. And though he tried not to, he couldn’t help but notice that she filled out her pretty green robes in a manner that was nothing like he recalled.

His breath had caught in his chest at the sight of her, and he had labelled the cause to be of shock. But upon reflection he knew that it had been something more, something so inappropriate for a man of his age to be feeling for a woman of her youth – who had not long ago been a student in his care – that at the time his mind had simply refused to process the reaction as anything else.

He had somehow managed to find his voice and greet her warmly, and was pleasantly surprised when she had enveloped him in a friendly hug, proclaiming that she had missed him. He had been touched by her display of affection and sentiment, although he told himself at the time he was merely touched as any professor would be at receiving such a delightful reception from a former favoured pupil. Now, however, he knew better.

They had spent that evening catching up, talking of everything from Minerva’s stay in Italy under the training of Transfiguration Master Sylvynio, to Albus’s defeat of Grindelwald. It had been a most enjoyable evening and he had regretted its end, but he had readily concurred to Minerva’s insistence that they stay in touch and perhaps have lunch sometime.

They had held true to that agreement, and had continued to send letters and meet on many different occasions throughout the years. The last time they had met, in fact, had been the December five years past when he had been in urgent need of a replacement professor for Transfiguration. She had been his first choice, and when he had invited her to lunch and proposed the offer, she had accepted both excitedly and graciously.

Still seated in his office behind his desk, Albus sighed. He now knew that if he hadn’t gone to Minerva on the tower at sunrise, the discovery of his feelings for her would have been merely postponed, not avoided altogether. He had only felt emotions this strong for someone once before, and that had ended in great tragedy. But he knew that his relationship with Minerva would never suffer the same fate, for something bereft of a beginning is quite incapable of a tragic culmination.

Rousing himself from his musings, he looked at the clock to find the hour had grown quite late, and it was only then that he realised how tired he was. A result, no doubt, of his early morning jaunt into the forest; for only when dawn is breaking – and the stars disappearing – can you have a half-way decent conversation with the centaurs without hearing, ‘Jupiter is coming into alignment with Saturn,’ or some such phrase. And most unfortunately it was a part of his role as headmaster to meet with them once a month, as no matter how annoying they could be, they were the best source to utilise for gaining knowledge of the goings-on in the forest.

Rising from his seat, Albus extinguished his office sconces with a wave of his hand before climbing the stairs to his personal quarters. He quickly completed his nightly routine, sliding on a warm flannel nightshirt before sinking gratefully into his cosy bed, forever thankful for the house-elves and their bed-warmers.

It seemed as though he had just fallen asleep when he felt a small hand on his shoulder, rousing him from his rest.

“Master Dumbledore, Sir, you is needing to wake up! Please, Sir, Mistress Pomfrey sends Dara to wake Master Dumbledore!”

Sitting up quickly, Albus reached for his glasses and put them on, squinting through tired eyes at the little elf at his bedside. “What did you say of Poppy?” he asked, voice rough and worry settling like a weight in his stomach.

“Dara says Mistress Pomfrey needs Master Dumbledore awake, Sir. You is needing to be in the Hospital Wing-”

“Thank you, Dara,” Albus said quickly, interrupting the elf as he threw off his covers and rapidly dressed, his only thought being that Minerva had fallen ill.

He rushed through the vacant corridors, ignoring the questions from the portraits he passed. Guilt settled heavily in his soul. He should have asked Minerva far sooner if she were alright. He should have offered her a friendly ear long ago when he first noticed she wasn’t quite herself. He should have made her come inside from the Astronomy Tower instead of taking her a cloak. But he hadn’t. And even though he knew that he or no one else could _make_ Minerva McGonagall do anything, he still felt contrition for his failure to protect her.

Entering the Hospital Wing with a flurry of pale blue robes, Albus was met with the sight of a very flustered Poppy, her cheeks flushed from exertion and her hair falling into her face. She was holding three purple vials, one dark blue and one of light pink.

When she saw him enter she dashed over to him, panting for breath. There was no sight of Minerva, or in fact of any patients, he noticed with confusion.

“Headmaster, thank Merlin!” she gasped, clutching the vials to her so she wouldn’t drop them. “We have a small epidemic on our hands! All six students remaining in the castle have contracted nasty cases of vanishing sickness – you know how quickly it spreads, it’s highly contagious – and I’ve had to quarantine them here in the Hospital Wing. Also, after dinner last night I went to check on Minerva, since she had missed three meals. What I found was a very sick woman, indeed. She’s got Scrofungulus, Albus, another highly contagious illness and I can’t bring her here to the Hospital Wing where she and the students may infect each other. Obviously I can’t be in two places at once, so either she needs to be taken to St. Mungo’s or someone needs to be sent for to administer her potions and take care of her for the next couple of days, while I have my hands full of frequently disappearing children,” the Matron said, raising her arm to wipe sweat from her brow as her hands were full of clinking vials.

“There will be no need for either, Poppy. I will care for her,” Albus replied immediately. He may have failed her once, but he certainly wouldn’t do so twice.

“But Albus,” Poppy said, her eyebrows rising slightly, “surely you have other duties you must-”

“There is no duty of greater importance than a person’s health, as you know, Poppy; especially not one of my staff members.” _And most especially not Minerva_ , Albus added silently.

Poppy nodded, saying, “Of course. As you wish, Headmaster. Let me go and retrieve the supplies you will need.”

Fifteen minutes later Albus was standing outside Minerva’s door, a copy of ‘A Healer’s Reference’ in his hand and twelve potion vials floating behind him. Not knowing her password, he gave the universal headmaster’s password for use in emergency situations and entered her quarters. The sitting room was dark, the only illumination coming from the crescent moon shining through the slightly parted curtains. Across the room Minerva’s bedroom door was half-open, casting a long sliver of flickering candlelight onto the floor. Walking softly, he made his way to the door, gently opening it the rest of the way and stepping through.

Minerva was lying in her bed, covers drawn up to her chin. Her face was pallid and sweaty, a feverish flush standing stark against her white skin. Her lips were dry and cracked with their normal rosy hue absent. Her hair was out of its customary bun, the long locks disappearing beneath the blanket except for a few stray strands which were sticking to her damp face and neck. Her eyes were closed, long lashes resting upon her cheeks in sweet resemblance of the night’s crescent moon, and her chest rose and fell slowly with her every breath.

“Oh, Minerva,” Albus sighed sotto voce, walking over to her bedside and placing the book and vials on her nightstand. He stared down at her and was aghast at how weak and frail the strong and vibrant witch appeared. She looked so unlike herself, so helpless, and it pained him to see her in such a state. Reaching out to her he lightly brushed her hair away from her face, her skin hot to the touch. “I’m so sorry, Minerva. I should have been there for you much sooner. But I’m here now, and I will see to it that you are up and back on your feet as soon as possible,” he whispered, watching for any action that may prove her alert and finding none. He wasn’t surprised by this, for Scrofungulus was a notoriously nasty illness, but he had hoped.

Rolling up his sleeves Albus set to work and conjured a bowl of cold water and a soft, absorbent flannel, and after dipping it in the water he tenderly washed her face and neck, hoping to sooth her temperature. Once finished, he re-dipped the flannel and placed it across her forehead, conjuring and wetting another before placing it gingerly behind her neck. Satisfied, he dried his hands on his robes and opened the reference book to ‘Scrofungulus’ to make certain he was doing as he should and of what the next steps were. According to the book, he was to administer first the green potion and then the amber one followed by four ounces of water, and then sooth Minerva’s lips with fresh balm.

Setting the reference back on the table, Albus uncorked the green vial and leaned over Minerva, gingerly raising her head and tilting it back. He placed the potion to her lips, tipping the contents into her mouth and then rubbing her throat with two fingers to induce swallowing. Once this task was successfully completed he repeated his ministrations with the other vial, and then the water before picking the reference back up and summoning Gerick.

“Master Dumbledore calls for Gerick, Sir?” the elf asked as he appeared, bowing lowly before looking at him with his usual expectant expression.

“Yes, Gerick; I require a jar of beeswax, a vial of aloe extract, a small granite bowl and a peppermint stick. Quickly, please,” he said, not looking up from the book in his hands, barely hearing as the elf replied and disappeared. He was trying desperately to think of nothing but helping Minerva in this moment and getting her well – trying to pretend that she was just a member of his staff that he was caring for. But he couldn’t. She wasn’t just a member of his staff. She was Minerva McGonagall, unaware keeper of his heart.

Just then Gerick reappeared rousing him from his thoughts, and he gratefully took the items from the elf and set to work. He put some of the beeswax into the granite bowl followed by a small amount of aloe, stirring it with the peppermint stick until it reached the right consistency. He then dipped the tip of his finger into the balm and began applying it delicately to Minerva’s – no doubt painful – chapped lips, saying soothingly, “Here we are my dear, a little fresh balm to hopefully alleviate some of your discomfort. You needn’t ingest any more potions for an hour, so just rest peacefully now. I will be right here while you sleep.”

Although Albus knew that she couldn’t hear him, it calmed his own nerves to speak to her, just as it always had throughout the years. She was a comforting presence to him and he couldn’t help being worried for her, even though he knew that with her youth and health Scrofungulus wasn’t a serious danger to her. It would merely deplete her magical abilities and weaken her for a short period of time, but no lasting harm would be done. But it wasn’t only because of her current illness that he was concerned, but still yet the reason for her recent sadness.

When he had asked her in his moment of weakness what had stolen her hope, she had replied that it had been the truth. Truth was always a questionable thing to Albus, for one man’s truth could be another’s lie, and it was often subject to change; or in the end it proved not to be what you had previously thought. He only wished he knew what this ‘truth’ was that grieved Minerva so. Sighing, he conjured a comfortable armchair at her bedside, settling in for the long day ahead.

Time passed by quickly as Albus tended to Minerva, refreshing her compresses, administering her potions every hour and reapplying her lip balm. He had just finished the latter when he heard Minerva’s door open, and a few seconds later Poppy entered the bedroom looking as tired as he felt.

“Alright, Poppy?” he asked, smiling when she snorted.

“I’ll not even dignify that question with an answer, Headmaster,” she replied, humour in her tired eyes as she walked over to Minerva. “How’s our patient this evening?”

“Still out of it, I’m afraid. She hasn’t roused once,” he said, watching as Poppy performed her examination.

“Mm, I hadn’t expected so. Even the great Minerva McGonagall is no match for Scrofungulus, I’m afraid. But she’s looking much better. You’ve done well, Albus,” she said, looking up at him with a small smile. “I expect she’ll awake within the next hour. Her fever has come down, and she looks nicely hydrated. Fortunately her case is very mild, so she won’t have to experience the full effects. I imagine she’ll be quite weak and her magical reserves will be greatly depleted tomorrow, but she should be back on her feet the day after. Once she wakes you can help her drink some broth, and I imagine you’ll need something to eat as well. After that give her this sleeping draught,” she said, pulling a vial from her pocket and setting it on the table. “Once she’s taken it she shouldn’t wake again until morning, so you can retire to your rooms and get some rest.”

Albus nodded dutifully to the matron, though he had no intentions of leaving Minerva’s side until he was certain she was vastly improved. “Thank you, Poppy. How are the students fairing?”

Poppy shook her head in exasperated amusement. “They think its great fun! Honestly, you wouldn’t think they were sick at all. The little blighters keep leaving their beds when they turn invisible because they think it’s funny when I can’t find them. I finally had to give them all sleeping draughts just so I could keep up with them!”

Albus chuckled, imagining young Poppy running about the Hospital Wing in frazzled aggravation trying to find her invisible patients. “Children will be children,” he said with a smile.

“Humph. Children being children get sedated in my Ward; I’m a Medi-Witch, not a nanny!” she said with a laugh, brushing her wayward hair from her face. “But in any case, I’ll leave you to it now,” she said as she walked over to him, placing her hand on his arm and looking up at him sternly. “Get some rest, Albus, and eat. I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon to help Minerva bathe and change after I’ve tended to the students.”

“As you wish, Mother Pomfrey,” he said teasingly, chuckling when she slapped his shoulder and left the room mumbling something about needing to sedate _him_. He had always been fond of Poppy, and was greatly pleased and thankful that he could count her amongst his friends. He hadn’t known her as well when she was a student as he had Minerva, but over the years they had become better acquainted he had found her to be a trustworthy, dedicated and loyal witch, who was especially talented in her field.

Rubbing a hand over his tired face, Albus moved to return to his seat when he heard Minerva give a soft groan. His gaze immediately went to her face, his heart fluttering with her lashes as her eyes opened slowly, and she blinked a few times before focussing on him.

“Albus?” she asked softly, her throat raspy and her brows knitted in confusion as she tried to sit up, but Albus put a hand gently on her shoulder to prevent the motion.

“Shh, just relax, my dear. You’re quite ill, you know,” he said with a grin, reaching for a glass of water. “Here, drink a bit of this.”

“I can’t lift my arms,” she mumbled drowsily, and despite Albus’s worry for her and his lament over her illness he couldn’t help but think her adorable in that moment.

“No, I don’t expect you can. Scrofungulus has a tendency to have that effect,” he said lightly, lifting her head gingerly and helping her to take a few swallows of water before placing the glass back on the table.

“Scrofungulus?” she groaned, her voice still sounding weak but much clearer after the water’s refreshment.

“I am afraid so, my dear,” he said, amused despite himself. He was certain that was as close to whining as he had ever heard the witch come in all the time he had known her. “Now that you’re awake we’ll get some broth and perhaps some dry toasted bread into you and you’ll be well in no time,” he said, summoning Gerick and giving him the orders.

“Where is Poppy?” Minerva asked, as the little elf disappeared.

“Ah, she has her hands quite full with the students at present. It seems we have had a small epidemic of vanishing sickness that all the children remaining for the holiday have contracted. The students are quarantined in the Hospital Wing, and Poppy didn’t want to risk cross-contamination, and so I volunteered to be your temporary caregiver,” he said, removing the cloth from her forehead and placing it on the table.

“But Albus, what if you catch it, too? I certainly don’t wish you to become ill because of me. You should have just taken me to St. Mungo’s – I’m sure you have other things to be tending to instead of me, anyhow.”

Just then Gerick appeared with the soup and bread, and after placing the tray on the nightstand, Albus replied, “Nonsense, Minerva. Any work needing my attention will wait, and none of it is of higher importance than your health. And don’t concern yourself with my well-being, my dear; I assure you I have been exposed to much worse things than Scrofungulus and lived to tell the tale,” he said with a fond smile. “Now I’ll not have another word on the matter. Let’s prop you up and get you fed, or else Poppy will have my head for incompetence.”

Arranging her pillows behind her, Albus helped her scoot back against them before placing the tray on her lap and seating himself on the edge of the bed. Picking up the spoon, he said, “Now, little Minerva, which do you prefer: the Hogwarts Express, or the Flying Carpet?”

“Albus do be serious. It is already humiliating enough that you have to feed me, let’s not further it now,” she chastised, looking as stern as her illness would allow.

His eyes twinkling, he dipped the spoon into the broth and blew on it gently before saying, “Very well. Since you’re undecided, I suppose it had best be the Flying Carpet. I fear my train impression is rather poor.” And before she could reply, he began making a whistling and whooshing sound, like that of wind, as he moved the spoon toward her mouth in a wavy motion and said, “Open the cave for the incoming carpet!” He was rewarded for his efforts when she reluctantly smiled, rolling her eyes before opening her mouth to accept the broth.

“Old fool,” she said after she had swallowed, a hint of sparkle returning to her dulled eyes that gladdened Albus’s soul.

“Mm… I find it’s never wise to insult the one responsible for your recovery,” he teased, “as sometimes the consequences can be most dire.”

“I will be sure to check all medicinal potions for poisons, then, in case you should decide to exact your revenge,” she replied, dutifully accepting another spoonful of broth.

Albus smiled, grabbing a napkin and dabbing the corners of her mouth, wishing he could simply kiss them instead. It felt so good to take care of her, to be depended on and trusted by her, and he wanted nothing more than to do so for as long as life would allow. And he would, just not in the full capacity he wished, but as her friend. That would have to be enough.

Pulling himself out of such thoughts, he placed the spoon in the half-empty bowl, picking up one of the thin squares of toasted bread. “How about we try some bread, now, hm?” he asked, holding the morsel to her mouth when she nodded.

The next little while passed in relative silence as he fed her, and he could tell that she was growing extremely tired. Setting her empty tray aside he gave her the sleeping draught and then helped her to lie back down, tucking the covers tightly around her.

“Your lips are looking rather dry again, my dear,” he noted. “Are they uncomfortable?”

“A bit,” she admitted sleepily.

“Well, let us fix it then, shall we?” he said, retrieving the balm from the table. He applied it tenderly to her lips, looking up into her eyes when she gasped as his finger swept across her bottom lip. Her eyes were hooded from exhaustion, but Albus wished it were desire instead. Swallowing, he said, “Does it burn?”

“A little,” she said, the breath of her words falling upon his fingertips as he pulled his hand away, and he fought the shiver at the sensation it produced.

“I believe that means it is working, or at least that is what I was always told about pain-inducing remedies,” he said with a smile, standing from the edge of her bed, watching as her eyes fell closed. “Sleep well, Minerva. I shall see you in the morning,” he whispered, turning to resume his position in the armchair, but her hushed murmur stopped him.

“I’m glad you’re here, Albus.”

His heart leapt into his throat at the low words and he turned back toward her, knowing she was now completely asleep as her face was relaxed and her breathing slow and even. He bent over her, dropping a soft kiss to her smooth forehead as he said, “As am I, my love; as am I.”

 

* * *

 

 

Albus was abruptly awoken, but by what he was unsure. He had slept in the armchair and he stretched slightly trying to work out the kinks, his back and neck stiff from staying too long in the same position. It was so dark in Minerva’s room that he couldn’t see a thing, letting him know that whatever the time may be, it definitely wasn’t morning. He was just about to try to drift off to sleep once again when he heard what sounded like a choking noise, and he quickly rose and lit the sconces with a wave of his hand. Minerva started slightly at the lights suddenly coming on, and when she looked toward him he could see the tears on her cheeks.

“Albus! I thought you had gone,” she said, attempting with great effort to wipe the dampness from her face, but it was apparent that her strength was still weak, and Albus stilled her arms with his hands.

“Minerva, what is the matter? Should I get Poppy?” he asked, unable to keep the worry from his voice. He could only recall twice over all the years he had known Minerva that he had seen her cry and it would be a lie if he said he was not more than just a bit concerned.

Minerva shook her head, clearing her throat before replying, “I’m fine, Albus. I’m sorry I woke you.”

Albus reached into his sleep-wrinkled robes and pulled out his handkerchief, gently dabbing her face, her eyes falling closed and a few more salted drops escaping from beneath her lashes. “You are not fine, Minerva,” he said softly, his heart breaking to see her in such a state. “Here, try to drink a bit of water,” he coaxed, lifting her head and placing the glass to her lips, noticing that they were once again chapped.

After she had drained the glass, he set it aside and gathered some more of the balm onto his finger. He softly traced it onto her lips, his heart skipping a beat when she slightly parted them, green eyes still glassy with unshed tears meeting his own. He longed to do nothing more than kiss her, to try to soothe away her sorrow with tender caresses and loving words; but he knew such attentions from him were not likely to be accepted so he merely withdrew his hand, re-dampening one of the flannels from the previous day and delicately washing her face.

She sighed softly, relaxing under his ministrations. “I’m sorry to be such a burden to you, Albus. You’re taking such great care of me, and I truly appreciate you sacrificing your time and work to do so,” she said groggily.

“You could never be a burden, Minerva,” he replied, brushing her hair out of her face. “But let the sleeping potion do its job and rest now, and perhaps when you next awake you will be feeling vastly improved,” he said, remaining on the edge of her bed and watching her sleep, becoming lost in his thoughts.

Such was how Poppy found him several hours later, walking briskly into the room and giving him a bright smile, looking as though she was fairing much better today than yesterday. “Good morning, Albus. You will be glad to know that the students are all visible this morning. I will probably let them leave around lunchtime,” she said, looking most relieved by that fact. “How are you and our patient doing today?”

He stood from the bed, unsuccessfully attempting to smooth the wrinkles from his robes as he returned the matron’s smile. “I am unsure how Minerva is feeling at present as she has yet to awaken since before sunrise. As for myself, I am quite well, thank you.”

“Mhm,” she said disbelievingly, folding her arms across her chest and sighing. “What am I to do with you, Albus? It is quite obvious that you didn’t follow my instructions to eat properly and rest. Look at you, you’re a mess!” she fussed, clucking her tongue reprovingly. “While I tend to Minerva this morning I want you to go shower, eat breakfast and take a nap. You had better not return here before noon, either, or it’ll be trouble for you,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “And I’ll be sending Gerick to check and make sure you’ve done as I’ve said, and don’t think I won’t!”

Albus chuckled at the young woman before him who always had a knack of making him feel like a young boy again. “I wouldn’t dream of defying your wishes twice, Poppy. I value my life more than that.”

“A good thing, to be certain!” she said, her eyes alight with mirth. “Now off with you. I assure you Minerva will still be here when you return in a few hours, freshly bathed and awaiting your help with her lunch.”

“I have no doubts she is in the most capable of hands,” he replied, and though he was reluctant to leave Minerva, he knew that Poppy was right. It wouldn’t do for him to make himself sick as well, and so he bade the Medi-Witch farewell and after one last, parting glance to a peacefully sleeping Minerva he made his way to his chambers – his mind thankfully clear for he was far too tired to think.

When at noon he was once again entering Minerva’s rooms, he did indeed feel refreshed and well after heeding Poppy’s orders, and he desperately hoped that he would find his deputy in improved health, as well as spirits. He had been unable to remove from his mind the pre-dawn image of her pretty face, streaked with the dampness of some unknown grief that he wished only to banish. He was certain it wouldn’t be an image that he would soon forget.

Knocking lightly on the cracked bedroom door, he entered when he heard Poppy beckon him to do so, extremely pleased to see upon his entrance that Minerva was sitting up in the bed and leaning against her pillows, her hands folded on top of her stomach and a lunch tray in her lap. She was still pale, but he could see a touch of her normal hue returning to her cheeks, and though the shadow of sorrow still lingered in her eyes, he found a glimmer of the former lustre returned to the emerald depths. The most pleasing sight, however, was the small smile she bestowed him upon his entrance.

“Ah! Right on time, Albus,” Poppy said cheerfully. “Minerva has just received her lunch, and I’m heading off to the Hospital Wing to release the students. And might I just say you are looking quite well today?” she added with a smirk, causing him to chuckle.

“You may always say such pleasant words, my dear, and I thank you for them. But however ‘well’ I look today, I must confess, is merely a result of heeding some well-placed advice from a friend,” he replied, eyes twinkling at the matron.

“Sounds like a smart friend to have around then, I’d say,” she said with a laugh, patting him fondly on the arm as she walked by him and toward the door. “Take good care of our Minerva, Albus, and I’ll return later this evening to spend the night with her – and don’t give me that look – I know you don’t mind staying, but as I will soon be free of ill students there is no need for it, and you needn’t do my job for me,” she said lightly, but her eyes were stern, plainly saying he was to rest tonight in his own bed and not sitting in a chair.

Despite his disappointment at the prospect of not spending another night in Minerva’s company, Albus nodded, unable to find a reasonable excuse to stay. “As you wish, Mother Pomfrey,” he said, smiling as she glared at him and exited the room with an overly dramatic exclamation of, ‘Humph! Such insolence!’

Shaking his head in amusement Albus walked over to Minerva, sitting down gingerly on the edge of her bed and gazing at her fondly. “You are looking better today, my dear. How are you feeling?”

“I am feeling much better, Albus, thanks to you and your generous care,” she replied, her appreciation evident in her eyes until she lowered them to her hands, taking a deep breath before saying hesitantly, “Albus… about earlier this morning, I apologise. I thought you had gone – I certainly didn’t intend to trouble you or cause you concern.”

“Oh Minerva,” Albus said, laying his hand atop her own, causing her to look up at him. “For as long as I have known you, you have yet to cause me any trouble and I very much doubt that you ever could, even if you tried,” he said with a smile, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin beneath his palm. “You have nothing to apologise for, my dear, and you caused me no more concern than I already held for you. You have not been quite yourself lately, and I must admit to being worried. I do hope you know that you may come to me with anything troubling you, Minerva, or if you ever need to merely talk to someone,” he said, trying to convey his sincerity by slightly lowering his head to look at her over the rims of his glasses, wishing that she would confide in him, let him be there for her.

Her lips curved into a smile tinged with sadness, and she turned the hand beneath his own over to squeeze his fingers. “I do know, Albus, and I thank you. But I am afraid this is something I will have to overcome on my own, and I will in time,” she said quietly. “I assure you there is no need to worry. I will be just fine.”

Albus was unconvinced, but he made no argument, instead saying, “Very well, my dear. But the invitation will remain in case you should change your mind. Now, we had better get this food into your stomach before Mother Pomfrey returns, or else we will both be on the receiving end of her wrath,” he said with a grin, reluctantly releasing her hand and trying to ignore the emptiness he felt at the loss of contact; but, no matter how he longed for it to be, her hand was not his to hold.

Picking up the spoon, he said as cheerily as he could, “Shall we try for the train today?” and he delighted when her glare was off-set by obviously reluctant mirth.

 

* * *

 

 

The following day found Albus sitting at his desk, though instead of catching up on paperwork as he should be doing, he was going through his bottom desk drawer of photographs. He pulled out an old photo of himself and Elphias Doge when they were only just out of school, young and full of wild dreams for the future that never came to fruition. He didn’t know why he had been so compelled to examine the contents of this drawer, but he knew what he was hoping to find. And with the next small rectangle he pulled from amongst the others what he was searching for was in his hand, and it transported him back in time to that warm June day.

_“Professor! Professor Dumbledore!”_

_Albus turned from watching the Hogwarts Express make its way down the tracks, coming to carry the latest batch of 7 th Years into their futures. The sight that greeted him was of a thin, lanky girl with raven ringlets falling well below her shoulders, bright green eyes full of excitement and a smile so wide he thought her cheeks must certainly be sore. He couldn’t help but smile in return._

_“Miss McGonagall! I must say, you are looking quite ready for whatever may await you outside the walls of this castle,” he said, peering at her fondly over the tops of his glasses._

_“Very much so, Sir, and it is to you whom I owe my thanks! I came to express my appreciation to you one last time before the train arrives. You have helped me so much over the past five years, and I could never repay your kindness, especially in helping me gain an apprenticeship with Master Sylvynio. I think I shall enjoy Italy very much, indeed!”_

_“I merely guided you, Miss McGonagall. You received your apprenticeship very much on your own merit; I only convinced Antonius to accept one more apprentice before his retirement. It was your own brilliance that caused him to choose you,” he replied, though he was touched by the sincere gratitude that he saw in her eyes._

_“You are far too modest, dear Professor!” she said with a bemused shake of her head. “My, I am certainly going to miss you, Sir. Whatever shall I do without our weekly Transfiguration conversations and occasional games of chess?”_

_Albus smiled at her warmly, knowing that he would miss those times as well. “Ah, I am certain that Antonius will have you far too busy to spare a thought for your old Transfiguration Professor. I expect you shall forget I even exist by the end of your first month,” he jested, though there was a part of him which he ignored that wanted her to remember him, as he knew that he would remember her. She was a most extraordinary young witch, and he knew he would probably never see another Transfiguration student like her and he was quite proud to have been a part of her education._

_Minerva shook her head at his words, her voice softer and eyes serious as she replied, “You are very much mistaken, Professor Dumbledore. The only way I could ever forget you is by someone’s wand; let us pray that will never happen, for how sad I would surely be without your memory to brighten my days.”_

_It was at that precise moment that a flash went off, and Albus blinked and turned his attention from Minerva to a young, grinning boy who was pulling the freshly taken picture from his camera._

_“A memento for you, Minerva,” the young man said, handing her the picture with a grin before setting off for the train that had now pulled into Hogsmeade station._

_“Thank you, Martin!” called Minerva after him, before turning back to face Albus and offering the picture to him. “Here, Professor. Something to remember me by,” she said quickly, as the students began boarding the train. “I will write to you, Sir, but I will understand if you’re too busy to respond. Take care of yourself, and perhaps we’ll meet again,” she said with a smile, and before he could utter a word she threw her arms around him in an embrace, kissing him chastely on the cheek and saying, “Thank you, Professor. I shall be most lucky if Master Sylvynio is half the teacher that you have been.”_

_And then she was gone before Albus could even wish her well, and he found himself watching her board the train. As it began on its journey, he returned her wave from the window with lightness in his heart and a tingle in his cheek._

Albus sighed, rubbing his thumb lightly over the surface of the picture. Minerva was looking up at him with such innocent adoration that it made him feel like a lecherous old man to have such romantic notions toward her. He had never had such feelings toward her when she was a student, although she did have a knack for making him feel young and carefree in her presence. No, it wasn’t until that meeting in Hogsmeade that he felt the first true stirring of anything non-platonic – the first twinge of something that far exceeded his previous fondness for her. This fact, however, hardly made him feel any less lecherous.

He had dreamed of her last night, dreamed of her in his bed, of her kisses, her touch, her taste… and he had awoken ashamed and feeling as though he had somehow violated her. He had been unable to return to sleep after that, and had merely lain staring at the ceiling trying not to think of anything, but the image of her tear-streaked face haunted him until he finally arose to tend to his work. And yet, here he sat, not working at all, holding a picture of her the day she stopped being his student. Sickened with himself, Albus put the photograph back in the drawer and closed it with a snap.

 

* * *

 

 

The next several days passed without incident as Albus continued to check on Minerva. He was delighted to see her returned to full health and yet still concerned to see that her unknown troubles lingered. He had attempted to cheer her, but it appeared the more he tried to help the more forlorn she became, much to his chagrin. However, he wasn’t giving up hope quite yet.

His fingers idly twirled the small, gaily wrapped package in his hands as he pondered whether or not he should give it to her. He and Minerva had always exchanged the typical gifts that are given betwixt friends and colleagues; something considerate and thoughtful and yet not too personal. The gift for Minerva he currently held, however, was most definitely personal. He was hoping that perhaps such a gift would let her know that she was important to him (without revealing his feelings for her), and that no matter what she was currently going through, or would be going through in the future, she could always come to him.

Deciding that he would indeed give it to her, Albus rose from his chair by the fire in his sitting room and entered his bedroom, going over to stand once more before the antique looking-glass in the corner. He chuckled when it whistled at him, and he decided that he at least looked presentable. Certainly he looked festive for the staff’s annual Farewell to Christmas party. He was wearing dark blue dress-robes adorned with white snowflakes falling steadily from the shoulders of the fabric to accumulate at the hem and a matching wizard’s hat. He found himself almost wishing his auburn hair and beard were white like the charmed snow to complete the look. Shaking his head in amusement at himself, he shrunk his various gifts to the staff and placed them in his pocket, separating Minerva’s from the others and placing it inside his breast pocket instead.

One last glance at his reflection and then Albus exited his quarters for the staff room.

 

* * *

 

 

“… and then, if you can imagine this, he said, “So sorry, Madam, but I thought you were smuggling a Niffler!”

“Rolanda Hooch!” Minerva chastised over the roaring laughter, though if one looked closely enough they could see her fighting a smile. “That is entirely inappropriate!”

Albus merely sat back chuckling, thoroughly enjoying the party, most especially the fact that Minerva seemed to be enjoying herself. It was good to see her delight in something again, even if those sorrowful shadows still lingered just below the gaiety in her eyes.

“Alright everyone, it’s getting late. Time to exchange gifts before our Farewell to Christmas song!” Poppy called.

Albus smiled as he watched his staff become children before his eyes, gathering eagerly around the Christmas tree and opening their presents. He noticed that Minerva was standing off to the side, sipping warm cider and not participating. Standing, he decided now would be a good time to give her his gift while the others were suitably distracted.

Approaching her from behind, he reached out and delicately tapped her shoulder causing her to spin around and look at him. He was dismayed to see the sadness etched into her features before she had he chance to hide it, but he didn’t question her. Instead, he held out his brightly wrapped package for her and said, “Happy Christmas, Minerva.”

She offered him a small smile as she accepted his gift, saying, “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything, Albus; your caring for me while I was ill was quite gift enough.”

“It was my pleasure to care for you, Minerva. You must stop thanking me for doing so. Now open your gift,” he urged with a grin, watching with slight nervousness as she gently removed the wrappings. He observed her expression carefully as the paper fell to the floor, unveiling the picture she had given him before boarding the Hogwarts Express all those yeas ago. She looked at first surprised as she gazed upon it in its new gilded frame, and then she looked nostalgic as her fingers lightly traced the photo’s edge. When she raised her eyes to meet his own, however, Albus was at a loss as to how to describe the emotions he saw in that moment. There was only one he recognised in her beautiful features, and that was the seemingly ever-present torment of unknown origin.

“Oh Albus…” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You kept this, all these years?”

“I didn’t wish to forget you, and I believe you gave it to me for the sole purpose of not doing that very thing.”

“And now?” she asked softly, eyes falling back to the picture, keeping Albus from seeing whatever was lurking there.

“And now, I don’t need a picture to remember you, Minerva,” he replied fondly, while trying to keep the depths of that fondness hidden. He wanted to tell her he had kept the picture because she meant everything to him, even before he had been ready to acknowledge it; that he loved her. But he refrained, knowing such sentiments would be unwelcome.

“I don’t know what to say, Albus,” Minerva said, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thank you.”

Before Albus could reply Rolanda’s voice rang out through the room, saying, “Gather ‘round the tree everyone! It’s midnight – time for our song!”

Extending his arm to Minerva with a smile he said, “Shall we, my dear?” And once her hand was tucked daintily in the crook of his arm Albus led them to the Christmas tree to form a circle with the others.

“Who do you think will be subjected to the Farewell Mistletoe this year?” Minerva asked with a smirk.

Every year at the Farewell Christmas party Filius always charmed one last bunch of mistletoe to hover over someone’s head, and it wouldn’t disappear until abolished with a kiss. Last year it had been the droll Professor Binns who had been trapped beneath the berries, and he had been forced to have the thing follow him around for a good half hour before Minerva had taken pity on the old man and kissed him on the cheek. They still enjoyed teasing him over the incident.

“Your guess is as good as mine, my dear,” Albus replied with a chuckle, secretly hoping it would be Minerva so he could have the pleasure of relieving her from the enchantment.

“Alright you lot, on the count of three: one… two… three…!” Rolanda called, and everyone began to sing:

 

_“Farewell dear Christmas, it’s been a treat;_

_We’ve had our eggnog and cookies to eat._

_There’s been fruit cake, holly and mistletoe;_

_You know we love you but it’s time to go!_

_The presents were opened, the carols were sung;_

_Now it’s all over and in bed are the young!_

_So thanks for the memories, thanks for the cheer—_

_Farewell dear Christmas, we will see you next year!_

_Yes farewell dear Christmas, we will see you next year!”_

 

As everyone cheered and clapped at the song’s end, several sprigs of mistletoe tied together with a large golden bow shot out of Filius’s wand and zoomed around the room. Albus watched in amusement as his staff ducked and tried to hide behind one another to avoid being its victim. It hovered slightly over Rolanda for a few seconds, and Albus thought she would be its subject, but it seemed to change its mind and whizzed over to Minerva, stopping soundly above her head.

“It looks like it has chosen our Deputy Headmistress this year!” Rolanda cried with glee, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in her delight and excitement.

“I think that means it’s the Headmaster’s turn to assist her and relieve her from the charm,” Poppy called out, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Albus looked down at Minerva, her pretty face flushed deep pink and asked, “Would you be so kind as to allow an old man to relieve you of your curse, Madam?”

Minerva nodded, clutching the photograph he had given her earlier to her chest as she replied, “I would be most appreciative.”

Albus took a small step closer to her, trying to control his emotions. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her with all the hidden passion that he felt for her. To caress her lips with his own the way they deserved to be caressed, to hold her in his arms the way she deserved to be held, to love her completely and not secretly, the way she deserved to be loved. Instead, he merely leaned in close to her, relishing the sensation of being so near, and placed a soft, quick kiss to her cheek.

When he pulled back, he thought for a moment he saw disappointment flash across her features, but he thought he must have imagined it as he was dismayed to see her starting to tear up again.

“Thank you, Albus,” she managed, her voice sounding strained. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m still feeling a bit under the weather and tonight’s festivities have tired me. Goodnight.”

And before Albus could stop her she had made her way quickly out of the room. Worried, he was just about to follow when he felt a gentle hand on his arm.

“Leave her for a moment, Albus,” Poppy said quietly, removing her hand from his arm to motion to an uninhabited corner of the room furthest from the rest of the staff.

Albus followed her, his mind still on Minerva. It pained him that she didn’t trust him enough to tell him the source of her sorrow. What was causing her such anguish? How had his innocent peck on the cheek upset her so greatly?

“Albus,” Poppy said in a hushed tone, so as not to be overheard, “I’m going to show something to you, but you must promise to never tell Minerva I did so. She would never trust me again. But I see that look in your eyes, and I know that you didn’t merely care for Minerva the way you did when she was ill just because she’s your Deputy. I want her to be happy, and if I have to betray her trust this once to give her that, then so be it.”

Albus didn’t ask what the ‘look’ in his eyes was or what, precisely, the matron knew about his feelings for Minerva; instead, we was too busy being confused by what she had said about Minerva and her trust, and inquired, “Whatever are you talking about, Poppy?”

“I want you to look into my mind, Albus. There is a memory that you need to see.”

Taken aback by the unexpected statement, Albus shook his head. “You know I don’t like to use Legilimency unless it is absolutely necessary, Poppy. Can you not just tell me?”

Poppy shook her head. “I think it would be better for you to see. Please, Albus.”

“Very well,” Albus conceded, as his curiosity was thoroughly piqued. “Are you ready?” And once she had confirmed that she was, Albus cast the spell and watched the memory that Poppy pushed forward for him to see.

_Poppy was sitting by the fire in her rooms with a cup of hot tea, enjoying the warmth of both when a knock on her door broke through the peacefulness of the night. Placing her cup aside with a sigh, she stood, tying her dressing gown around her and wondering who could be bothering her at this late hour. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see an obviously upset Minerva McGonagall._

_“Minerva?” she said, concerned. “Are you ill? What has happened?”_

_Minerva shook her head, looking on the verge of tears. “No, Poppy, I am not ill. Might I come in?”_

_“Of course,” Poppy said, stepping aside immediately and closing the door behind the distraught woman. “Have a seat beside the fire. Can I get you something? Tea?”_

_“No, thank you,” Minerva replied, not sitting down, but pacing before the hearth. That was when Poppy caught a glimpse of the envelope clutched in the witch’s hand._

_“What is that?” she inquired, extremely worried by her friend’s odd behaviour._

_“My resignation,” Minerva answered immediately, clutching the envelope a little tighter as she turned on her heel to pace the length of the small hearth once more. “I was just on my way to give it to Albus.”_

_Shocked, Poppy reached out a hand to grab the back of the nearest chair as she half-exclaimed, “What? But why? Minerva, you love Hogwarts!”_

_Minerva stopped pacing, standing still before the fire with her back to Poppy, her posture rigid as she said quietly, “Indeed I do, Poppy. However, there are things about this castle I have come to love too much. I have grown too attached, and therefore I must distance myself. I thought the summer break would help, but it has not, so I must go. Perhaps one day I might return, but for now...” she trailed off, deep sadness lacing her words._

_“This is about Albus, isn’t it?”_

_Minerva turned sharply at that, looking at Poppy with wide, shining eyes, a denial obviously ready on her lips, but Poppy didn’t give her a chance to utter it._

_“Don’t even try, Minerva. You have loved that man since before you even knew what love was, and it was obvious to anyone who knew you well enough to see it, no matter how you tried to hide it.”_

_“Albus…?”_

_Poppy shook her head at Minerva’s frightened inquiry, replying, “No. I don’t think he knows. But I think he would like to.”_

_Minerva turned her face away once more, a half-laugh, half-sob escaping her as she said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Poppy. Albus would no more think of me as more than a colleague and friend than he would Filius. He probably still sees me as the little girl I was as his student. There is no chance that he could ever return my feelings; it is better that I leave.”_

_“With love, Minerva, there is always a chance. I’ve seen the way Albus looks at you, the way he interacts with you. That man would do anything for you and not think twice. If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”_

_“Don’t be foolish, Poppy,” Minerva snapped. “Albus would do anything he could for anyone, it is merely his nature,” she said, and then her tone softened as she rubbed a trembling hand over her face. “Please understand, Poppy. My duties here at the school force me to be in close proximity to Albus on a regular basis, and I can’t stand it much longer. I want… things that I shouldn’t want, and I fear one day slipping and forgetting myself – forgetting my place in his life as his friend, colleague, and nothing more. Resigning is my only option. Surely you must understand that?”_

_“What I understand, Minerva,” Poppy said, her tone harsher than it had been in a long while, “is that you’re running away and the Minerva I have known for all these years would never run. You know that this school needs you – that Albus needs you. You have responsibilities here and to these children, and more than that, to yourself. Albus loves you, whether you refuse to see it or not, and if you walk out now without ever having told him I think you will come to regret it for the rest of your life. But that’s only my opinion, you, of course, can do as you like. I will only say one more thing about the entire matter: If you truly feel – in your heart and soul, Minerva – that tuning your back on the life you have created here, and on the children and people you love, is your only option and the best decision then go give that resignation to Albus right now. But if you feel – in your heart and soul – that there’s at least a chance that you might be making the biggest mistake of your life in running away, then throw that letter into the fire and don’t think of it again.”_

_Poppy watched as Minerva mulled her words, looking down at the wrinkled envelope in her hand, smoothing it slightly with her fingers, her posture still rigid as stone. But then, with a laden sigh, the proud shoulders slumped and Minerva threw the letter into the fire, wrapping her arms around herself to try to hide her shaking and in a choked voice, she managed to say, “Mention this to no one.”_

The memory began to fade before Albus as he watched Poppy move forward to comfort Minerva, and he withdrew from the Medi-Witch’s mind, reeling from what he had just witnessed. Minerva loved him. He wouldn’t have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes, and he knew instantly that was why Poppy had insisted on Legilimency. But one thought prevailed over all of the others. He had been the cause of Minerva’s sorrow. That tormented look in her eyes, those tears upon her face that night in her room, it had been because she thought her love unrequited and destined to remain so. That was why she hadn’t come to him with her problem; _he_ was the problem. And all along he held the key to her happiness and hadn’t even known it, as he himself struggled with thoughts of unrequited love. Perhaps later he could appreciate the irony. Right now, however, he only wanted to find Minerva and give her the kiss that he had wanted to beneath the mistletoe mere moments ago.

“Go, Albus,” Poppy said with a smile, obviously recognising his desire.

Albus turned to do just that, but he stopped, turning back and grabbing the matron’s hand and squeezing it tightly with his own as he said sincerely, “Thank you, Poppy,” and then he kissed her cheek in gratitude and made his way quickly from the room and through the various corridors of the castle, his heart full yet oddly light, his lips tingling in anticipation. He only stopped his rapid steps when he reached Minerva’s rooms and he took a calming breath as he nervously smoothed his robes. Retrieving his wand, he whispered a quick incantation before sheathing it once more and raising his hand to knock.

It wasn’t long before Minerva opened the door, surprise evident in her features as she said, “Albus, what are you doing here? The party isn’t yet over, I know.”

“No, you are quite right,” he said softly, “but I fear I didn’t do you justice beneath the mistletoe, and I’ve come to correct my error.” He flicked his eyes upward, watching as Minerva followed his gaze to the mistletoe just outside her door, her brows knitting together in a mix of disbelief and confusion.

“Albus, what-”

But Albus silenced her with a gentle finger to her lips, and he grabbed her hand to pull her slightly toward him until she was standing beneath the green leaves and waxy, white berries. He moved his fingers slowly from her tantalising mouth, dragging them lightly across her flushing cheek until sliding them into her silky hair, lacing his fingers tenderly in the sensuous locks. His heartbeat quickened with her breathing, and he trailed his other hand from her own, up her arm, and then over her shoulder, bringing it to rest at the elegant nape of her neck.

He gazed into her green eyes, savouring the moment – seeing the question still lingering in her emerald pools, but also seeing the anticipation. He lowered his face to hers, watching her enchanting eyes fall closed as he gently bumped his nose against her own, thrilling at the way she leaned ever-so slightly closer at the action. He paused there, breathing her in, relishing in the sensation of her, of having her beneath his hands, of being so close to her – of knowing that she wanted him there.

Unable to resist any longer, Albus touched his lips to hers in the barest hint of a brushing, and the gasp that fell from her mouth travelled maddeningly along his spine. He kissed her again, still chaste but with greater pressure, marvelling at the softness of her lips against his own, how warm and pliant they felt beneath his attentions. He continued in the same light, teasing manner several more times before pulling back to look at her face.

Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and she whispered, “What do you mean by it, Albus?” and had he not been so close to her he mightn’t have even caught the words.

He was swept away by the sheer longing she exuded, the timid hope that she seemed afraid to release, and he was astounded that he was the cause of either. He moved his hands down to her hips, pulling her even closer, warmed by the heat of her body and yet more-so by that in her eyes. Placing his lips against her ear, he breathed, “Perhaps I failed to make myself clear,” and he slowly drew his lips across her cheek until he reached her luscious mouth, claiming it once more.

This time he lightly ran his tongue along her bottom lip, his blood racing at her soft whimper. Her lips parted in invitation, and he slid one arm sensuously around her waist, holding her tightly as he began leisurely exploring the sweet cavern of her mouth; the taste of her caressing his palate like the most decadent of desserts, far exceeding even his most vivid of dreams. Her hands had come to rest on his upper arms, gripping him securely as though afraid he would suddenly disappear, which he most certainly had no intention of doing. Withdrawing from her gradually – reluctantly – he captured her bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently before soothing it with mollifying kisses; rewarded for his efforts by her sharp intake of breath and the tensing of her fingers.

When he finally released her she rested her forehead against his chest, and panting slightly she said, “Albus, please. Please, I need to know. I can’t bear it. Not if-”

“I love you, Minerva,” he interrupted with a murmur, wanting only to put her mind at ease. “I love you and have done so since that first meeting in Hogsmeade after your apprenticeship. But you were so young, and I… I had been your teacher and am over forty years your senior. I thought my feelings so inappropriate that I buried them, only to rediscover them that day on the tower. You looked so broken that morning, and I wished only to recover all the pieces and try whatever methods I could to mend you again.”

“Oh Albus,” she whispered, “I never thought… I never dreamed that you could ever return my feelings. I’ve loved you for so long, before I even knew what true love was.” She paused in her speech, raising her eyes to meet his, and the green was glassy with tears. “I’m dreaming aren’t I? This isn’t real. It can’t be.”

“It is,” he assured her, his thumbs moving to lovingly brush the dampness from her youthful cheeks. “It is,” he repeated softly, his chest hitching as she stood on her tiptoes, her lips pressing sensually against his ear.

“Prove it,” she murmured, her hands sliding up to lace her arms around his neck, arching her back just enough to press her abdomen against his hardness.

Albus groaned at the sensation, his hands grasping her upper arms to try to keep them from wandering, trying to ground himself and keep from throwing her against the corridor wall and ravishing her as he was tempted to do. But this was his Minerva, and she deserved more than that. “Minerva… perhaps it would be best if we waited-”

“No,” she said immediately, pulling him closer still. “I’ve waited twenty years, Albus, with no hopes of ever catching your interest. Please, don’t make me wait any longer.”

Seeing the longing in her eyes and the expression of need on her pretty face Albus knew he couldn’t deny her; not now, and not ever. Unable to think of an adequate response to her statement, he settled instead for pressing his lips against her own once more, this time more passionately, trying to express without words how much he wanted her, needed her, _craved_ her. She was so warm and willing beneath his ministrations it made his veins rush with power. _He_ was the one she was so willing to be with, _he_ was the one drawing those sweet moans from the depths of her throat, and _he_ was the one whom she loved. In all his years, in all his misguided searches in his youth for power, he had never come across it in such intensity as this.

Allowing his hands to move from her arms he slid them up and over her shoulders, relishing in the feel of the crushed velvet of her robes beneath his hands as they travelled down her back, before settling firmly on the delicate curves just above the backs of her thighs. He lifted her effortlessly and she groaned so deliciously, wrapping her slim legs around his waist as he carried her blindly into her chambers, never releasing her luscious mouth.

 

* * *

 

 

In the half-light of breaking dawn Albus lay on his side in his lover’s bed, gazing at the sleeping face of the keeper of his heart. His fingers gently traced her features as he had often dreamt of doing, and he smiled contentedly to see his dreams realised. He had always loved Christmas – the carols, the laughter, the joy. He had always loved hearing stories of Christmas miracles, and great, meaningful gifts that people received. But lying here now, warm and content with Minerva in his arms, in his heart, in his spirit, Albus knew that the best gifts didn’t always come on Christmas. For sometimes, and with a little help from loving friends, they came in its shadow.

 

 


End file.
